Pardon me, dictate to me,
O Myfanwy
I submit to your tyranny,
for why did i neglect you?
Pale maiden of the wayside
Fie now, regard me as a fool
Pale man that I am, all remiss
Fie now, did you not see it all?
Parted, we knew then. O Myfanwy,
I had good need to be so hard.
I cherish all of it, O Myfanwy.
I thank you well you searched so far.
Why did I not avoid them
and keep you always near me?
I am chased by other laws, Myfanwy
To gallows, giddy, final, high
there is a poem on my wall
hand written thirty years ago
it isn’t faded, no not yet
everything you ever gave me
was more precious than you knew
I should have told you
but these words you wrote ring true
defining now the way we should have been
back then
perhaps the way we were
I was young
too insecure
it was all beyond me
the things we make
so often come too late
woods, birds, horses,
poetry and peace,
tribal spirit runs across the plains,
the sea is waiting,
big open spaces
plains for the galloping
fields of corn invite me
rest under a tree
this brought a tear to my eye
come with me, set me free
I smell wood fires, burning crackle.
I see hawks, thunder, thunder.
Dancing feet, dust goes flying.
Down the valley, by the river,
Stone black bear, line of turquoise,
Running with a powerful sureness
Through his head, past listening ear,
To the heart, thumping, thumping.
On his back he carries tokens
To the clouds high up above
Spinning, spinning, Great Spirit spinning
Bringing power, protection, love,
To the cave beside the water
Flowing slow, flowing rapid
Hidden in the dark of evening,
Bear rolls over, sleeps again.
Bear awakes ev’ry morning
But at night he finds the stars,
Becomes a shadow, dark, foreboding,
Against the slowly scrolling sky,
His arms around us strong and wide.
You cannot hide, but
Don’t be scared, little child.
His claws are furled and hidden, smooth.
Wishing you no harm, my small one,
He will hold you once again
In his deep dark ancient arms.
Saturday Sun shines through the window
onto my chair, negating all shadow,
Taking the shade.
I drink morning coffee blinded by dazzle
Squinting my eyes against this new day.
Awoken too early from short restless sleep
And no particular time I need keep,
No place to go, no schedule pressing,
I turn on the news. Death figures rising.
My Grandad had a dibber
Well worn, smooth and brown.
It fitted to the hand,
Nestled in my palm,
As I probed the ground.
He sent me on before him
Making well spaced holes
In rich and loamy earth,
While he followed slowly after,
Down on bended knees
Planting single seeds.
We would watch for weeks
And care for them with water
And then the bean would come
Growing up the frames,
Made from sticks re-used.
The small red flowers shone,
Pixie caps on twisting vines,
Row on row resplendent
In long hot summer suns.
Oh thou Chalice of Heaven, give me thy hand.
Thy feet are the petals of roses, as silent as swans they glide.
The music of angels plays with the sway of thy rounded hips
Thy navel is filled with honey, where thy belly dips.
Honeyed breath escapes from your parted lips.
Thy womb is a pleasant pasture, fertile and flowing with nectar,
I come as a humble servant begging to enter thy land.
I have journeyed many a mile. Thou art a work divine.
Do not make denial of he who worships thine every whim,
He who prays for the jewels of thine eyes to turn and shine upon him,
And the burning bow of your smile to bless him with one superior smirk.
excellent piece of work – love it
A farmer was gifted Alexa.
He puzzled and he frowned.
“So, you can tell me the weather hey?”
“Yes” replied Alexa, so he took the thing around.
.
He placed it on the fence.
“It´s going to rain tomorrow” Alexa beeped.
“Of course it is” the farmer laughed
“The cows are moving to under the trees!”
.
The night fell soon enough,
“It will be frosty in the morning” Alexa piped.
“Well it´s not rocket science…
the moon is clear and shining bright!”
.
Alexa chimed upon waking
“It´s going to pour today, in a few hours”.
The farmer looked out his window
“Aye the petals are closed on those flowers”
.
The next day Alexa shouted
“It´s going to be dry and fine!”
The farmer had placed it further away.
Laughing “Says the open cones on this pine!”
.
Alexa screamed in desperation
“There will be freak snow soon!”
View original post 62 more words
unable,
uncertain,
unknown,
unwanted,
unloved,
unravelled,
unchained,
under cover of darkness,
under unending law,
unblemished, unbound, undefeated,
unaltered, unceasing,
undead
The opening solo piano
repeats the same phrase twice,
building allegro, staccato,
with a sound that is sunny and bright.
At ten seconds
the orchestra enters
and repeats the piano’s part,
as we move into diminuendo
and the strings come to the fore.
The whole rises and falls.
The higher-pitched strings
float, glissando, up above it all.
The lower-pitched strings
hold an underlying staccato.
Between solo and orchestra,
the dynamic range expands.
Solo and tutti explore
emotional dialogues
to a turn of recognition
as they seek for a surprise.
A brief phrase of only four notes,
which is twice repeated,
without the final fourth note,
is then, repeated in full.
These notes are neatly pinpointed
by an increase in swelling dynamics
on each first note of the phrase.
After thirty-four seconds
a note takes the air
from woodwind sustaining a breath
leading into a swelling melody
from the strings with a smooth,
rich texture of resonant sound.
The original tune is repeated twice,
glissando, by the strings,
introducing the horn in the second repeat.
The sound becomes transparent,
while the dynamics slowly increase.
The structure consistently rises,
then cascades downward in ripples,
triples, suggesting a shifting breeze
coming to rushing crescendo
at moment 01:01.
There is a brief finality, at 1:04,
with an emphatic chord.
At 1:05 the piano solo
re-enters with tender grace
and a poignant interpretation
follows the melody.
There is a key change to the minor.
The heart lurches and weeps.
From 1:30 to 1:44 the orchestral accompaniment
gradually becomes emphatic,
more, with a falling scale
behind the rising solo
which is repeated only twice.
The next section concludes
with a final note, down,
on the piano at 2:08
and an orchestral chord
followed by a silence
of one brief vital pulse.
At 2:11 the piano
seeking heaven,
makes an allegro,
bright and joyous return
to the main melody
this is echoed
by the orchestra
with amplified dynamics
until 2:46,
when the orchestra plays
a stately passage,
which the soloist repeats.
At 2:53 the soloist brings
a series of ascending scales
in allegro repetitions
until 3:06 when it’s mirrored
in reverse
in repeating descending scales,
against a simple staccato beat.
This repeats with increasing dynamics
dancing until 3:17
skipping between
and then calms until 3:27.
The orchestra falls silent.
The soloist is alone,
seeking heaven,
with repetitious notes,
entering a rapidly descending scale
until 3:40 which reverses, to ascend,
before falling, pianissimo at 3:39.
There is again a pause of one pulse.
So fine, so touching, the heart skips a beat.
As the fourth minute begins
the solo brightly repeats, allegro,
the central melody twice.
The final ten seconds are tutti, played forte
with final force.
The piece is sometimes playful,
sometimes wistful and poignant,
more beautiful for the contrast
between yearning and joyousness.
Mozart plays with emotions
just as he plays with the keys.
Music surpasses words.
(Piano Concerto C Major K.415 Rondeau Allegro – which is actually 8 minutes long. I analyses half for this writing)
The Dreaming Path 